Lost In Music, Caught In A Trap, No Turning Back...

So no one has pooped in a bucket yet, but I'm sure it's coming. And The Chef is still around, but everything is ballooning into a bigger controversy. Meaning that a bunch of building code violations have been revealed and now there's an impending legal battle. Not to mention the rumor that we're all going to eventually die of asbestos poisoning and possibly other things. It's what we get for thinking that it was a good idea to live in what was formerly an abandoned retirement home. No matter how much white sage you burn, there are things about the building that will always be a little bit toxic.

Luckily, I'm house-sitting for about a week and a half. I get to hang out with the world's sweetest pit bull in Southeast Portland. Burn my latte and call me a hipster, but this is my favorite part of town.

Now if only I can figure out how to work the television here, everything will be perfect. The thing has a trillion remotes and I think I pressed the wrong button on one of them last night. I was doomed to an evening of watching Ye Olde Fuzz Channel. Fail.

In other news, I've decided that I'm going to be done wallowing around in mediocrity and I need to own my life. Meaning, I need finish the album, get a back-up band together, and create a scene. I think I'm holding auditions this weekend if I can get my act together. I'm trying really hard to give the impression that The Want Ads has more than just one person in it. We'll see how that goes. The Poet is acting as my band manager. I need to get him one of those wooden paddles that the manager of Spinal Tap carries around. Painted pink, of course.

I'm also figuring out the cover art for my CD and have spent way too much time in the past week in my bathroom taking pictures that look like this:

As far as other items on the rock and roll to-do list go, I am perfecting my ability to slip in and out of a fairly convincing British accent. Pretty soon, no one is going to know what nationality I really am.

I'm either onto something great or I've hit the infamous Quarter-Life Crisis hardcore. All my friends at The Nursing Home For Artists are very encouraging, but many of them are going through similar crises (of both Quarter-Life and Mid-Life variety).

I'll just keep up the madness and see what happens.


I even went all out and made a Facebook page for my band (become a fan? :D). Everyone knows that nothing is official until it's on Facebook. So now it's official. I'm here to rock.

Except I still have to put myself through the vicious daily cycle of self-doubt. I really just need to get over all of that. And I will. But there is always a moment in the day when I have too much time to myself and realize that pursuing The Rock Star Dream is actually a very scary thing to do.

But it would be tragic if I didn't give it my best shot.

I think my sentiments can be best expressed through a song by Sister Sledge:

That's all for now. Peace out, kiddos.